


Pinwheel

by dark_muse_iris



Series: Call Me Mistress [6]
Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Dominatrix, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pegging, Praise Kink, Prostitution, Rough Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Smoking, Smut, Spanking, Sub!jimin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_muse_iris/pseuds/dark_muse_iris
Summary: The Mistress reunites with a long-term client after not seeing him for months.Excerpt:"I hope you've prepared yourself for me," you murmured, your voice adopting a sultry tone.Jimin exhaled a full breath before offering his response. "I have."Your heels tapped softly against the cold, hard floor of the Sanctuary as you paced right to left before his kneeling form."You know I would hate to be disappointed by a poor performance.""I would never dare to disappoint you, Mistress."





	Pinwheel

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Jimin x OC
> 
> Genre: Smut, angst
> 
> POV: 2nd Person (from the Mistress' perspective)
> 
> Warning: Sub!Jimin, Domme!OC, BDSM, femdom, sexual themes, sex work, oral sex (face-riding), sex toys, bondage, anal play, praise kink, pegging, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, spanking, rough sex, creampie, profanity, smoking, excessive jealousy because you wish you were giving and/or receiving this good shit.

_Still looks scary and a little too clean._

The long drive through Pinwheel's upper-class suburban neighborhood always set you a little on edge. The grass was a perfect shade of emerald green, nurtured by the best fertilizer money could buy. No one cut their own grass or tended their gardens here, instead opting to outsource the task to lawn care businesses. The yards were precisely pruned in every way, designed to fit a prescribed plan of decadence. It looked like the sort of exclusive community where secrets could be very easily whisked away by a fleet of lawyers. You always imagined it to be a place where, if you were killed, no one would find your body. The only reason you agreed to this location was due to the fact that the client had earned your trust over the years, and you hadn’t made that easy.

The first time you set foot between the large marble columns of Pinwheel's front porch, you thought the grandiose mansion was his parents' house. In your mind, there was no way a young twenty-something could have been able to afford such a place unless he inherited it from his parents or they were still paying for it. But you had been wrong about that. You had been wrong about a lot of things regarding him.

You met Pinwheel back when you worked as the main event at Rocket's. It was a complete dump of a strip club, but it was near the local truck stop and therefore was a good place to fleece tips from men who weren't keen on forming attachments. Your performance had been mostly standard fare back in those days—pole dances, lap dances—plus the costumes you made yourself. The customers would come in, take a seat in front of the stage, wait expectantly to be entertained. And you would entice them to part with their hard-earned cash, by any means necessary.

It was fair to say that most of the men you encountered at Rocket's were easy reads, but not Pinwheel. During his first visit to the club, he stood in the back of the room in his tailored dress slacks with an Old Fashioned in hand, a pensive expression painted on his face. You thought he was looking to buy the place, as he turned away every woman who approached him. It took you a few weeks of watching him for you to deduce that he simply had very selective tastes. Admittedly, if you had known he was a solar energy engineer who had patented a more efficient compact solar panel and built a lucrative company selling that product, you would have offered him a lap dance sooner. Of course, he would have rejected it back then.

Although you had known him for years, you still delighted in the tickle of mischief in your belly as you stood on his porch nearly a decade later. It was the prevailing feeling overpowering the sweat of your hand as it gripped the sizable overnight bag you always packed when you saw him. You would never profess it aloud, but your sessions with him excited you probably more than they should have.

The ornate front door opened with a soft rub against the decorative floor tiles and there he stood, grinning ear-to-ear in black dress slacks and a pressed white shirt with rolled sleeves. His dark hair looked in need of a trim by the way it swept over his eyes.

"My lady," he cooed, opening the door further to allow entrance. "You know you didn't have to cover up on my account."

Your tongue playfully dragged over the front of your teeth as you tightened the belt of your long, red trench coat. "Well, I hear Carmen Sandiego kink is all the rage now."

He closed the door behind you and it locked with a sharp, mechanical click. "I didn't know I was in the presence of a criminal mastermind. I'm a lucky man," he teased with a wicked expression. "You look a bit like her, you know. You should really get the hat. I would love to see that on you sometime."

"You would," you chuckled, making a mental note that he was still into costumes as much as ever. "But I think you'll enjoy this outfit I picked out for you just as much. It's new."

"Think you know my tastes, do you?"

Rolling your eyes, you answered, "After all the years we've fucked, I would hope so."

He crossed his arms and instructed with an upward tilt of his chin. "Show me, then."

You set your bag aside by the door and untied the belt of your coat, pulling the panels of the red curtain back to reveal your selection to your client's wandering eyes. The swells of your breasts were housed in a deep plunge bra the shade of red currants. The black lace tracing the undersides of them created the illusion of more fullness, not that you really needed the extra boost. You simply wanted to hold his attention a bit longer than usual. Your waist was wrapped in a matching pleated miniskirt with a single zipper that ran the full length of it for easy discarding. It was a safe bet given your client's preferences included you wearing next to nothing.

The sound of his low whistle let you know he was more than pleased.

"You spoil me," he commented, taking two steps closer to weave his hands through your open coat and warm the small of your back. Angling his head to nestle in the crook of your neck, he planted three tender, deceptively chaste kisses. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, bringing a soft smile to your face. The polite touch of his palms drifted to your hips, his thumbs teasing the bare flesh just above your skirt. "I've missed you, Cat."

The feeling of his breath wafting against your neck ignited the first flicker of arousal in your body. "I'd come around more often if you called."

His fingertip traced idly between your breasts. "Is my Mistress going to punish me for being a busy man?"

"Is it a punishment if you like it?" you jested, pressing your hands to his shoulders, breathing him in. The smell of his cologne was light and fresh like a basket of clementines, and the smell reminded you of all the dalliances you had delighted in together. Moving your hand to seize the growing need in his slacks, you made yourself heard as you whispered, "It's been too long, Jimin."

"I know it now," he whined impatiently, bucking slowly into your hand. "I was so stupid."

Squeezing your grip on him, you flashed a wicked grin. "We're going to have some fun tonight, aren't we?"

"I certainly hope so," he answered in a dulcet tone, kissing your jawline until he reached your earlobe and nipped it gently with the edges of his teeth. "I'm looking to celebrate."

The fingertips of your free hand crawled up his neck at a gradual pace. "Hm, what are we celebrating?"

"End of another successful quarter. We landed a big client last week."

"Are they as big as you feel in my hand right now?"

" _Huge_ ," he stressed, his breath growing unsteady as your palm continued to work over the bulge in his pants. "God, I should have called sooner."

"You'll make it up to me," you informed, offering another squeeze to communicate your intent.

"Yes, I will." Jimin's tongue grazed the side of your earlobe and you felt your nipples harden beneath your bra.

"Do you still want what you asked for at the party, or do you want something else now that I'm here?"

He lifted his head up and peered into your eyes with a blend of adoration and lust. "Oh, I still want it, but you can make me earn it first."

The smirk planted on his lips hinted that he was in a giving mood, which was wonderful news for you. It was started to feel pathetic that you hadn't enjoyed yourself to the fullest in months—at least not with a partner.

"Have you tested recently?" you inquired, hoping Jimin hadn't neglected that detail like he had with confirming his appointment.

"Yeah, it's in the Sanctuary."

"Good," you replied with a purr in your voice. "Let's not waste any more time."

* * *

The room Jimin referred to as the Sanctuary was the largest one on his basement level. The first time he mentioned it to you years ago, you thought it was going to be a maroon, velvety BDSM fortress, but that couldn't be further from its true motif: utility. The room was, for lack of a better word, _engineered_ to meet his preferences and his tastes, which swung like a pendulum between lighter kinks and waterworks—whatever fit his mood. From mounted bars affixed to the exposed beams, down to the large drain in the floor, the room was equipped for damn near everything. Amusingly, the most sordid contents of the room were hidden inside the steel drawers and glass cabinets along the farthest wall. True to Jimin's personal style, each drawer and cabinet had a tastefully crafted handle that could have been plucked from any home decor magazine. The storage appeared to be more fitting for fine china, but it housed several items far dearer to him.

For over a decade, Jimin had been an avid collector of what you considered to be a broad assortment of sex toys and furniture. Much of it was considered standard fare in your view. However, the piece that was uniquely his, without a doubt, was the custom-made stainless-steel table. Spanning a length of ten feet, it first appeared to be a sort of over-sized workspace. It wasn't warm and inviting like a wooden dinner table, but rather sterile, cold, and distancing. It was also a little too low to the ground and lacked chairs. Only after further inspection—and discovery of the series of leather straps and cuffs tucked underneath the edges—would anyone discover the surface's true intent of ensnaring willing bodies. The only accompanying piece of furniture was a small stepping stool, used to assist participants onto the table’s intimidating, metal surface.

"You remember Jungkook, right?" Jimin asked as he approached one of the small drawers and opened it to retrieve his latest test results.

 _How could I forget those nipples_ , you thought with shrouded amusement. You unzipped the side pocket of your overnight bag and pulled out your most recent screening.

"The birthday boy from the party," you recalled, exchanging papers. Satisfied with Jimin's test results, you set the sheet on the countertop and let your mind calculate the list of options now open to the impending session. "There were lots of spankings. I thought I was going to scare the poor thing, but he held up."

He nodded in agreement. "Yeah, he did, and he actually thanked me! Like, _really_ thanked me. Haven't seen him that grateful for anything since I gave him the corner office by the snack machine." Jimin folded his arms and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Are you _sure_ you're not seeing him? I mean, I wouldn't mind but—what's that look for?"

The look on your face was one of mild scolding. "A lady never tells. You know that. What kind of domme would I be if I shared all my clients' dirty little secrets?"

A mischievous expression stretched across his lips. "Can you at least confirm I have the dirtiest secrets?"

"You _are_ the one with a sex dungeon."

"It's the _Sanctuary_ ," he whined, clutching at his chest to signify being mortally wounded.

"At least there's a drain," you joked, tapping your heel on the floor. "I can just hose you off when I'm done."

"Why do you think I put it in, sweetheart? You know how filthy I can get."

His eyes held a spark of memory and the smirk you shared communicated remembrance for a particularly sordid experience you dabbled in the previous year.

"I remember it well," you replied in a simpering tone, approaching him to offer a kiss to his cheek. With a turn of your fingers, you tucked a bit of hair behind your left earlobe to display the dangling earrings he had bought for you years prior. They were among your favorites, and your gesture didn't go unnoticed as his lips turned up in approval.

"You still wear them for me," he observed, a pleasant hum in his voice. "I should buy more jewelry for you."

"I wouldn't refuse," you said. "I’ve never turned away a gift from my most devoted client."

Jimin's hands drifted back inside your coat and rested gently on your waist as he resumed planting soft pecks along your neck and jawline. "I bought something for you."

"Oh, you did, did you?" You draped your arms over his shoulders, enjoying the caress of his lips with passing sighs.

"Mhm," he responded. "I think we can use it for later."

Pulling away to examine his reaction, you probed further. "Is it actually a gift for me, or a gift for you?"

A chuckle arose in his throat as he turned away and blushed. "Alright, both of us."

Amused by how quickly he admitted to it, you pulled him closer. It was uncommon for Jimin to buy gifts for sessions and not discuss them with you in advance, but it had been quite a while since you had seen each other in this sort of context. Perhaps he was getting sentimental. As incorrigible as he could be at times, he never lost that touch of sweetness.

You tiptoed your fingertips along the buttons of his shirt. "Why are you being so sweet to me, hm? Did you buy a gift hoping I'll go easy on you?"

"Not at all," he countered in a honeyed voice, interlacing his fingers behind your back. "I just don't see why you can't enjoy yourself a little too."

"I'll enjoy myself plenty because you're here," you replied, watching his appearance bloom as he savored the praise you were giving him. "Does this gift vibrate?"

The corners of his mouth curled into a wicked grin. "Of course."

"Ooo, you shouldn't have...," you purred, feeling your interest swell as you plucked open the first few buttons of his shirt.

"Anything for my special lady," he whispered back, offering your hips an affectionate squeeze before he moved to unbuckle his belt.

As soon as his shirt was fully loosened, you took two steps backward and administered your instructions. "Take off the rest, slowly. Then kneel at my feet."

No words left his lips as the first garment, his white button-up shirt, slipped from his shoulders and onto the floor behind him in a crumpled heap. His shoulders flexed as he leaned forward and removed his shoes and socks, then he proceeded to pull the white undershirt over his head. You resisted the urge to praise him at that moment, but you couldn't help but admire the ridges of his well-sculpted abdomen, a testament to his continued efforts in physical fitness. The sharp slope of the v-line disappearing into the waistband of his black slacks was enough to make your mouth water, but it was imperative that you remained unaffected in any noticeable way. He would be rewarded by his efforts as a submissive, or not at all.

He unfastened his pants and hooked his thumbs into the waist of his boxer briefs to push them down his legs in one move. You would normally scold for combining steps in this manner, but the erection he wielded already appeared taut and hot to the touch. He was distractingly attractive—and he knew it—which is why he played on your wandering eye and gave it a deliberate squeeze at the base.

"Losing your head already?" you mused with a smirk. "You know I punish for touching so soon."

"You'll work me over regardless," he remarked as his knees kissed the floor and he assumed a subservient position, his hands tucked behind his back. His sculpted thighs tightened as he centered himself and focused on remaining as stoic and still as possible, save for the gentle rise and fall of his bare chest. His jaw hung loosely, lips slightly ajar as he peered at you from behind the black fringe cascading over his eyes. He was completely relaxed, as ready as he would ever be.

You slipped off your red coat and felt the minuscule hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. Flipping the locks of your dark hair behind your shoulders, you took a deep breath and let the air fill your lungs until they stretched with a small ache, preparing you for the start of what you knew would be a long evening.

The eyes of your client traced idly over your barely-dressed figure as you placed your coat on the countertop. The power of fully assuming your role swelled in your chest. You were excited to reclaim your place and play.

Anchoring your hand on your hip, you crossed your right leg over your left, taking the first rehearsed step toward securing his pleasure—and yours.

"I hope you've prepared yourself for me," you murmured, your voice adopting a sultry tone.

Jimin exhaled a full breath before offering his response. "I have."

Your heels tapped softly against the cold, hard floor of the Sanctuary as you paced right to left before his kneeling form.

"You know I would hate to be disappointed by a poor performance."

"I would never dare to disappoint you, Mistress."

You approached him and lifted his chin with your index finger. His eyes narrowed but nonetheless displayed his widened pupils.

"Are you going to make me come?" you asked softly, dragging your thumb across his plump bottom lip.

His warm breath danced along the skin your hand. "If you let me."

"How often?"

"As many times as you require."

A smile stretched across your features as Jimin's tongue brushed gently against your fingertip. You would have loved nothing more than to make him suck on it for the next hour, but you had other sordid plans in mind.

"Do you have any preferences tonight, Pinwheel?" you inquired, offering your client a final status check and review of his safe word.

"Only that I serve at my Mistress' pleasure."

His answer, unsurprisingly, was as smooth as silk. It tested your resolve and you hated that his sweet voice could say something so servile and still have an effect on you after all the years of practice. You inched closer to him and angled your hip toward his face, pointing to the single side zipper keeping the miniskirt wrapped around your waist.

"Would you be a dear and help me out of this?"

The edges of Jimin's lips perked up as he leaned forward and pulled the zipper into his mouth, trapping it. He lowered his head, parting the zipper's metal teeth until the fabric fell to the floor. A small gasp swept past his lips when he saw the fruits of his efforts: a currant-colored crotchless thong etched in black lace. His eyes bored into the small patch of bare skin peeking through the lowest point, and he looked to be utterly starving and on the verge of saying something brazen.

He blinked hard and pressed his lips together as he waited patiently for you to give permission to interact further. Threading your fingertips through his hair, you observed his breathing accelerate. He was excited, but he was restraining himself, suffering under the full weight of having not seen you this way in months. You were proud he wasn't pouting just yet, and you rewarded his self-control by gripping the hair on his scalp and pulling his face close to your mound. He inhaled deeply, losing himself for a moment, and his breath tickled your folds as he groaned in relief.

"Oh, you have missed me, haven't you?" you cooed, stroking his hair with the tenderest affection.

"Yes, Mistress," he answered, nuzzling your heat as his arms began to tremble behind his back.

"I've missed you too, sweetheart."

The reply dripped off your tongue like honey—and it wasn't an exaggeration. You really had missed him. His sessions had evolved over the years from strictly business to a mix of business and pleasure, and you felt he was one of the few men you could really trust. He was your longest client, after all.

Jimin slowly pressed kisses along the edges of your panties, and although you wanted to relish in that feeling, you knew his arms would grow sore unnecessarily soon in that position. You backed away from him and stepped aside to tap the metal surface of the imposing table in the center of the room.

"Are you ready?"

Your client nodded, then paused to wait for your directive to move. He was assuming his role with little resistance tonight, and it puzzled you. He knew how to follow directions well, but you expected to meet resistance early in the session, or at least hear a snarky remark. However, Jimin was pliant, yielding to every word and gesture, like a servant ready to receive from the hand of his master. Perhaps he wanted to be rewarded without having to work very hard for it. In any case, you couldn't afford to dwell on the thought longer, as there was an unoccupied table to address.

"On the table," you instructed softly, willing him the means to stand and regain circulation in his legs. He nudged the stepping stool into position with his feet and climbed aboard the table as he had many times in the past. You were pleased to see he was calm enough for his length to be softening. No client would last the whole night if they were overclocked with tension, and Jimin wasn't the type of man who thought a hard dick had to be maintained for the duration of playtime. He understood the value of taking small breaks and playing the long game, unlike his younger employee you had serviced weeks prior. That particular client would require more conditioning to endure half of what you were about to put his boss through.

Jimin stretched his nude body across the table, lying on his back with a tranquil countenance painted across his features. He was docile like a lamb, with one hand resting over his abdomen as though he was on the verge of sleep. You knew, however, that it was his way of preparing his mind for the night to come.

Stepping toward the lower half of his body, you leaned over and pulled the first set of ankle restraints from underneath the table. They were fashioned from brown leather, sewn with extra padding to support the limbs. The buckle was large and rustic in appearance, crafted from the same metal as the table supporting your client. He slid his left ankle toward you to allow himself to be cuffed. You squeezed the arch of his foot tenderly as you restrained him, then observed as he rotated his foot for your inspection. _Good, not too tight_ , you confirmed.

Upon fastening his right ankle, you inquired, "How's your back? Are you still seeing someone for that? I know it's been a couple months."

He lifted his head up and gave you a puzzled look. "Uh, yeah? Why do you ask?"

"I'm not going to strap down your thighs if you're still recovering. You'll be able to move a little easier if you need to."

"I feel okay right now, though," he countered, resting his head back on the table.

"It's not a risk I want to take this time," you stated more directly. "You should probably skip skiing next season if you want to be fully tied down like usual."

Your client released a noticeable sigh and you rolled your eyes. He was at the age where a man begins to struggle with recognizing his own limits. He was in incredible shape, but he wasn't twenty anymore, and he was learning the hard way that he couldn't spring back from an injury overnight like he used to. You didn't want him to be disappointed by the safety adjustment, but you weren’t about to be responsible for injuring him either.

"You can sigh like a little boy who dropped his ice cream cone, but you will accept this, or I can leave. I'm not going to be the cause for a pinched nerve," you warned with a firm stress in your voice.

As you approached your bag, he began to whine in protest. "I like it more when I can't move my legs at all. This is less fun."

"I don't know why you're under the impression I'm going to let you move at all," you replied in a wicked tone, abandoning your bag to turn and seize his dick with an unforgiving grip. His flesh grew rigid and began to shift in your hand, motivating you to pull on it until the first sound of submission slipped from between his plump lips.

"You know I could take off those cuffs and all I have to do is say the word, and you'll obey me," you bit back. "You're my prisoner tonight, regardless of these restraints, yes?"

Jimin bobbed his head quickly, unable to form coherent words. It was clear he was stunned by how mercilessly you were clutching his length. Warm tears welled in his eyes from the seizure of his most sensitive parts. He was completely at your mercy.

You pulled his shaft from side to side until you heard him wince. “Are you going to say it?” you probed, toying with him. “You can say the word and it will all be over.”

“No.” His response was a raspy sigh, barely audible.

"You're on this table because you work all day making decision after decision, and you don't want to make decisions anymore. You want to surrender that power to me. Am I correct?"

"Y-yes," he choked out, a grunt lodged in his throat. His hands quickly fled to the sides of the table and wrapped over its edges as he braced himself, waiting on your rebuttal.

"Are you going to obey me and trust that I will deliver on this night as I've done _every night_ I've had you?"

Your words were harsh, but the rocking of his hips against your warm palm suggested you were saying exactly what he wanted to hear. "Answer me, brat."

"I trust you, Mistress," he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut, his chest lifting in shallow breaths.

"With what?" you pressed, twisting your hand ninety degrees until he shuddered beneath you.

"My body, my dick—everything!"

His answer compelled you to release your grip on him and he released a soft "fuck," chuckling under his breath. You sauntered back to your bag, a smirk affixed to your lips, and pulled out a stainless-steel chastity device—a cock cage—your preferred means of refusing your client’s pleasure. You held it up and let it dangle playfully from your forefinger.

"Tsk, are you too hard for this now?" you inquired with a saccharine tone, glancing below his waist to behold a prominent erection. "I suggest you remedy that _immediately_."

Jimin nodded his head in understanding and closed his eyes. He began muttering, trying to distract and detach himself from his baser needs. His forearm raised to cover his eyes as he focused his efforts, taking in a deep breath and relaxing his body. Watching in admiration, you witnessed his seasoned adjustment to the role he seemed born to play—that of a submissive who would deny himself at your word, willing his cock to wilt like a flower devoid of sunlight.

You turned back to your bag and pulled out a blindfold and a pair of leather cuffs, attached by a long steel chain. The chain was too long to be used in the traditional sense, with hands cuffed in front or behind the body, but it was ideal for that which it was made: the steel bar mounted to the exposed beam overlooking the table.

Toeing off your heels and gathering your tools in hand, you prepared your ascent up the stepping stool and onto the table's surface. Jimin ceased his mumbling and lowered his arm the moment you began to hum a light tune. The cage dropped from your hand with a loud clank between his legs, making them jump as the restraints rattled against the table. You grinned as you stepped over him, your bare feet straddling his narrow waist. His length had softened once again and you were pleased he was controlling himself so well. It was clear he had been practicing in your absence. That was something which would be rewarded, in due time.

You continued to hum as you threw one of the leather cuffs over the steel bar, balancing the restraints evenly in your hands. Then, yanking on them with a fair amount of strength, you tested their resistance, the chain scratching and rattling against the bar. Your client smiled wickedly as you walked the dangling cuffs closer and closer to his head.

"I love this view," he commented, reaching up to brush your calves with his fingertips. His eyes were centered on the exposed flesh peeking through the open seam at the center of your panties. "It's like looking into the face of God."

 _He's so full of shit, the nerve of that line_ , you mused.

You nudged his ribs with your toes. "Are you going to get hard again?"

He paused to drag the tip of his tongue against the corners of his mouth. "No," he stated with confidence. "I'll behave."

You raised your eyebrow in disbelief and he blew you a kiss. He was testing your resolve, every bit of the incorrigible flirt you had known for years. A quick glance over your shoulder confirmed he was fully flaccid.

"I'm impressed," you praised. "You're faster than you used to be."

He tucked a hand behind his head and quipped, "That's the opposite of what women usually say to me."

"They probably don't cage that beast like I do."

"True," he laughed, flashing a disarming smile.

You retraced your steps and knelt between his spread legs, taking the cock cage in your hands and unlocking the device, separating the large metal ring from the enclosure meant for the shaft.

"Where are you putting the key this time?" he asked suggestively.

"I don't know," you teased. "I can't put it in your mouth. That’ll be occupied very soon."

"Oh? Is it my lucky day to drown between your legs, Mistress?"

 _Cocky fucker._ You pressed your lips together to distract yourself from the low pulse in your clit.

"It might be," you hinted with a shrug, taking the ring in your right hand and his limp member in your left.

Your client cleared his throat as you threaded his length and scrotum through the ring, pressing the metal loop against his flesh to ensure a snug fit. The top of the ring had an interlocking mechanism that attached to the caged piece. The vessel meant for his tenderest part looked like a large steel coil. It was cool to the touch, as evident by the way Jimin inhaled through his teeth when you placed his soft flesh inside of it.

As you completed the task of unhooking the lock and snapping the pieces together, Jimin rested his palm over his navel and wore a smirk befitting a man who knew only mischief. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest as you threaded the lock back through the top of the device, closing it with a final metallic clink.

"How do you feel?" you queried, offering a pleasant expression.

His tongue poked out to moisten his lips. "Like I can't wait to be used."

"I mean your dick," you clarified in a clipped tone, tugging on the cage to ensure his flesh was firmly trapped inside.

"Like...I... _can't wait to be used_ ," Jimin laughed, clearly enjoying the sting in your voice. "It feels fine—like a cold, unforgiving hug from a warden."

You removed the small key from the lock and slipped the thin piece of metal in your bra, right between your breasts. Tracing your hands over his bare thighs, you batted your lashes like a docile doll. "Are you saying you don't like being locked away for safe-keeping?"

"I don't trust that look when it's coming from you," he said playfully, shaking his head. "You're enjoying this. I'm a little scared."

"Mhm," you dismissed with a smirk, taking the blindfold from the table and crawling over his body until you reached his chest. "Would you like to see me, or touch me?"

You could see the deliberation in his eyes as his touch inched up your legs. "What's going to happen after I make that choice?"

"You're going to welcome me with your tongue," you informed him, dragging your fingertip along his chest.

He hummed with an air of interest in his voice and took your hand to bring it to his face. His lips pressed teasing kisses from the center of your palm to the soft flesh of your inner wrist. "If I pay an extra hundred, can I have both?"

"You can for two-fifty," you replied, pressing your tongue against the inside of your cheek.

Jimin pouted like a child with a fresh sprain and no one to make it better. When you flashed an unimpressed look in his direction, he straightened his face.

"Two hundred."

Repositioning your body to spread your knees with ease, you moved to present your argument more thoroughly by placing your foot next to his head and giving him a view of what he was about to lose. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back to give an exaggerated exhale. Then you bit your lip as you rubbed your fingertips down the center of the open slit in your panties, parting your bare folds with the slightest separation of your fingers. _Just a glimpse._

Jimin dropped his gaze and whispered, "You're so beautiful," as if he was confessing it to a first love. He knew not to touch you without permission, but he couldn't help but wriggle underneath you in discomfort, his length unable to harden in response to such captivating stimuli.

"Don't hurt my feelings," you warned harshly.

His hands cradled your waist with tenderness and you felt a tinge of regret that you used such a tone. His eyes bored hungrily into your core as he licked his lips and changed his answer.

"Three hundred. Please forgive me."

"That's better," you said with a softer voice, stroking the side of his cheek with your hand. You nudged the blindfold off the edge of the table and shifted forward until your legs were fanned across his face, your knees pressed against the cold metal surface.

It had been quite some time since you had been in such an exposed position, with a willing submissive ready to serve between your legs, and you were thankful it was him and not someone else. After years of play committing nearly every sexual sin the both of you could think of, this felt like a homecoming. He didn't shield his interest as he wafted a hot breath against your inner thighs, yet his hands were more cautious. They moved to secure your body but did so with the utmost sincerity. Jimin never grabbed you like you were property when you were so vulnerably displayed for him, not even when you were both younger and more careless. You had always liked that about him, but you could never tell him such a thing. Confessions of that sort would feel satisfying at the moment but would be crossing a line you promised to never cross with him.

You carded your fingertips against his scalp, massaging its surface until his eyes softened, his lids weighted with relaxation. The moment you tugged harshly against the fibers, his eyes darkened and he darted his head upwards as he served the first swipe of his tongue against your folds. A breath hitched in your throat, and you scolded yourself for making a sound so early. Jimin chuckled from between your legs, confirming he had picked up the sound. His attention to those little details was one of the reasons he was so brazen in his behavior. He knew how to get to you and, more so, how to get more out of you. His unrestricted eyesight and free hands grazing the edges of your hips were a testament to that.

He widened his tongue to spread you with less restraint, lapping at your petals until every taste bud was coated with slick. The insatiable hunger he communicated with his serpentine muscle made your body thrum with the need to vigorously grind his face as soon as possible.         

But you didn't. Glancing down to find him staring at you with knowing eyes, you clicked your tongue in dismissal. "Don't get cocky. It's been a while for me."

It was a lie.

"Mhm," he hummed playfully, dipping his tongue into your warm well to take another taste. You knew he didn't believe you, but he was playing the long game tonight and didn't press the matter further. He was determined to get what he wanted and paid double for.

Rocking his face to sink further into your flesh, he graced your body with long, firm sweeps that he knew would swell your vulva to the pinnacle of sensitivity. He never rushed to the clit; it wasn't his way of doing things. Truly, he meant to take in the experience fully, to the very last drop.

"That's it," you praised with a low tone, brushing the hair from his forehead.

As you balanced over his face, savoring his efforts, you restrained your vocals and focused on breathing as steadily as possible. You would never confess that Jimin was unmatched in this particular skill, with the way his lips pressed against your mound with such benevolence you felt like you were being kissed by an angel. It was an unbearable foil compared to his tongue that never lashed like a whip, nor flicked incessantly, but caressed with the confidence of a man who knew all the plays, all the buttons to push.

His precision and finesse were precisely why the dangling leather cuffs suspended from his ceiling were necessary. You learned the hard way how precarious riding his face on the table was a couple years back when he made you come so hard that you tumbled over his head and onto the floor. Since that mishap, you made adjustments and now clung to the cuffs whenever you needed to and let the rattling of the chains signal how pleased you were with his performance.

But for now, you were pacing yourself, bracing your hands against his chest as you slowly began to roll your hips.

"What would your board say if they found out you were fucking one of the investors, hm?" you inquired in a teasing voice.

Jimin groaned and the vibrations of the sound buzzed against your body.

You couldn't help but continue. "Do you think they would be _pleased_ , knowing their CEO's face gets soaked with an investor's juices?" Seizing his hair in your hand, you pulled him close until his nose brushed your clit. "Have some more of my juice, sweetheart."

He lapped with more vigor, compelling your eyes to roll back in debauched pleasure. His palms anchored to the curve of your ass and squeezed it, as though he meant to extract more nectar from your body. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine and you dragged your nails cruelly across his chest, his wanton moan reverberating against your swollen lower lips. You should have punished him. You should have yanked his head out from between your legs and slapped his face for that squeeze, but you couldn't. You didn't want the first coil of ecstasy to slip through your fingers when he was working so diligently to please his Mistress.

He moved his position to trace your clit with his tongue for the first time. His pace slowed considerably, becoming increasingly methodical and calculated. It was a torment, but one you favored for how satisfying the finish would be. He knew it too, which is why he opened his eyes again to watch your expressions shift. The sounds of him slurping from your trough echoed throughout the room, coaxing the heat from your chest to crawl up your neck like a vine coiling around a tree.

"Tsk, listen to you. Can't you eat with more manners?" you challenged, trying to cast out the urge to moan.

Jimin began to pant as he shook his head. He could reduce his noises to quiet his longing, but he didn't want to. He loved the sounds, so much that he customized the walls of the Sanctuary to rebound each one. As he sucked your clit, the pops of his lips against your wet flesh filled your ears with the lewdest satisfaction.

His breathing accelerated as his body started to shift. You suspected wearing the chastity device was starting to affect him. He probably wanted nothing more than to seize his cock and spray all that pent-up tension onto your back. And yet, here he was, trapped beneath you with very little autonomy beyond his mouth and hands. The power of having limited his movements excited you more than you would ever admit to him. It was infectious, the way he made you his queen as you siphoned wickedness from his tongue. You could stay seated on the throne of his submission forever.

"I bet you wish your cock was free to spring up and greet me," you commented, devoid of remorse.

He grunted in frustration, compelling you to lean forward and tug on his scalp again. His lips bunched to form a tight seal over your swollen bundle of nerves and he began to suck in a pulsing rhythm, his retaliation for your comment.

"F-fuck," you whimpered, slipping out of character as you clasped your hand over your mouth. The moment was fleeting, but Jimin saw your reaction and changed his methodology, bracing his hands to hold your body down firmly. You could no longer move your waist, but you didn't care. All you could think about was how perfect the pressure of his tongue was as he tasted you.

"Are you holding me down because you want more?" you probed, your voice starting to shake. _God, why does he have to be this good? Get your shit together, Cat, for fuck’s sake._ You inhaled a deep breath to reclaim a shred of self-control.

"Yes," he responded between bouts of pulling your flesh into his mouth, "please use me."

"What was that?" Your voice sounded nothing short of a preschool teacher addressing a child. "I can't hear you with your face buried in there. Is my cunt muffling your sweet voice?"

Jimin withdrew with an exasperated sigh. " _Please,_ fuck my face."

"Show me your tongue."

The pink muscle emerged from behind his swollen lips, the tip stretching until it reached the bottom of his chin which was already moistened with your juices. He was clearly proud of its length, as he wiggled it tauntingly at you and flashed a suggestive wink.

"Fuck me with it, if you're so confident," you sassed, yanking his hair and jerking his head off the table.

Jimin groaned in affirmation before he dove back in, bobbing his head relentlessly as his stiff muscle spearheaded your core. You always appreciated that he never hesitated, only giving his best when following your directions. The fact his tongue was unnaturally long was icing on the cake. Placing your palm behind his head, you supported his efforts, offering him whispers of praise as you relished in his talents. His hands tightened around your thighs once more and you felt yourself begin to unravel. He could bring you to the edge over and over again with relative ease. It was a shame you didn't see him more often, as he was one of the few who understood the journey was as delicious as the finish line.

"Good," you purred, your face searing with so much heat that you were growing lightheaded. You released his hair and he heaved a large breath, resting his head against the table with a hard thunk as he closed his eyes. You pressed your fingers to check on him. His forehead was warm to the touch, lacquered with sweat.

"Do you need a break?" you asked, stroking his cheek to inspect the rest of his face.

"No, Mistress," he answered, licking your arousal from his lips. The sight summoned a knock between your legs, the reminder you had yet to climax.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he attested, smiling at last. "I would happily suffocate in that pussy if you let me." He punctuated his statement with a kiss to your inner thigh, and the gesture both relaxed and humored you.

"Is that right?" you countered in a soothing tone, stroking his hair with your fingers. "You like this pussy that much?"

He grinned wickedly as his eyes left your face to admire the swollen parts where he had been. His gaze made you feel worshiped. You wanted to hold on to the way he sighed as his dark pupils met yours again. He was proud of what he had done and although your praise and responses had been controlled, he could tell how affected you were by your eyes, the windows to your soul which were incapable of hiding from him, especially when you were so close to the edge. Truthfully, you almost felt guilty for marking up the price to keep his hands and eyes free.

"Yes, Mistress," he responded politely, but the smirk on his face was anything but.

The edges of your lips pulled back into a countenance that was equally unashamed. "Do you _love_ it?"

He lifted his head to nuzzle the tip of his nose against your body. His tongue grazed your exposed skin with a single tender sweep. "Yes, very much," he whispered, the fan of his breath tickling the wet surface.

You were on the brink of losing your resolve entirely. You needed to come, and his soft teasing was dragging out an ending you wanted to experience sooner rather than later.

"Show me, then," you urged, raising your arms high to clasp your hands around the leather cuffs' chains. You were determined to endure him until the end, whether lightheaded or not. "Flatten your tongue."

His eyes traced to the ceiling to find the chains tightening in your grip, and he beamed. "With pleasure."

As soon as his tongue poked from his mouth and flattened against his lower lip, you sank yourself on him and heard the light rattling of metal chain links overhead. His hands descended to the sides of your thighs, anchoring your body to him but allowing you to rock and move as freely as you wished. You began to roll your core against his tongue, and as you did, his touch remained fixed on your body. You were relieved of it, given the risk of riding on a metal table.

But it was more than that. Other clients often laid there stiff during a face ride, waiting to be used. It was a concession you allowed, per the clients' wishes, but it wasn't as enjoyable as an active participant who wanted to stay connected at all times. That yearning made Jimin very special. It was why you always agreed to his requests to meet. And after ten years, his sessions felt more than merely providing a service.

You set a gradual pace, rocking against his face to ensure you were getting the proper pressure. He kept his tongue active, meeting your movements with wide, pleasurable sweeps. Soft moans began to fall off your tongue, but the only thought in your mind was the satiating the ache in your clit. Jimin's palms kneaded your flesh as he groaned along with you. It was his way of encouraging you to lower your defenses long enough to let go.

"I'm so cl—" you began to speak the words, unable to finish them before your client doubled the cadence of his tongue's sweeps against you. "S-suck on it. Suck it—oh, god... _oh,_ _god_..."

Jimin obeyed your command and hummed approvingly against you, the vibrations sparking the electric pulses in your pleasure receptors. The chains were shaking. Your legs were trembling against the sides of his head. "I'm gonna come!" You rushed the words as you felt the surge of your release barreling toward you.

Your client moaned into your sopping petals, " _Please_ , come on my face!" and then immediately reattached his soft lips to your clit and sucked with the pulse he knew would push you over.

Nodding frantically, you warned, "I will, I will, oh, _fuck_ —"

The final cry of your orgasm expelled from your throat and floated until it reached the ceilings of the Sanctuary. Jimin flattened his tongue once more as you pulled his head close to your heat and ground against his face. He cried out in thanksgiving as you painted his features with translucence. His palms rubbed your unsteady thighs in a reassuring manner to signify a job well done. When you pulled him away and walked your knees back from him, you beheld the eyes of a man who held nothing but complete devotion for you.

"I love making you sing," he confessed, his chin glossy with your release. "It's the most beautiful sound on the planet."

The warm bloom of his compliment filled your chest and brought a pleasant expression to your face.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," you replied, taking your fingertips and smearing the excess across his lips.

Dismounting from the table, you peeked at his waist to see his thighs were tight, his cock still locked inside the chastity device. You unhooked his ankles from their restraints and curled your forefinger to summon him to the end of the table.

"You always glow after," he mused with a smirk. "Do you let other clients make you—"

His words ceased when you returned a stern look in the eye. "Make me what?" you pressed. "Do you think you have a right to know that information? Or is it a fantasy of yours to know?"

Jimin pressed his lips together before offering his answer. "Sometimes I wonder about you with the others, like whether they make you feel as good as I can."

You weren't sure where his questions were coming from or why he felt the need to measure himself against your other clients. It was unlike him to care, so the speculation was concerning to you. Something seemed off, and you couldn't put your finger on it.

"They try their best," you hinted, plucking out the small key from inside your bra. "But effort doesn't always produce the desired result."

He beamed with pride at the response, satisfied to know that not all of your other clients were so skilled. Of course, not all of your clients were seeking to reciprocate in the first place. You inserted the key into the device and he sighed softly, lightly drumming his fingertips against the metal surface.

"Are you looking forward to your freedom?" you asked, tapping on the contraption. The device unsnapped and you quickly removed it and the accompanying ring from his body. As soon as his flesh was free from its cage, it began to stiffen and swell, growing in length.

"I think you have your answer," he chuckled, looking between his legs. A crisp whistle blew past his lips. "I'm hard as a rock. Christ..."

Taking his length in your hand, you idly stroked him. "Good thing we caged that beast, don't you think? You might have come all over this table and then I'd have nothing to play with."

He inhaled sharply as your thumb pressed tight circles against his frenulum. You laughed at his discomfort and playfully planted a single peck on the tip of its head, just to toy with him. The shaft knocked back against his body.

"Seriously?" he whined in protest. “Are you gonna lick it too?”

A wide grin stretched across your face. "Oh, come on. The way it sprang up like that made me feel powerful. Now," you continued with a pat to his bare thighs, "it's time to bend you over this table."

He nodded in agreement before sliding off the table's edge and turning around to assume the proper position. "Where do you want my hands?"

"Did we do them behind your back last time?"

"Yeah. I really liked that."

Scratching your brow, you countered, "You weren't injured then, though. I don't know if that's a good idea."

Jimin deliberated for a few moments. "What if we do out to the sides and tighten them?"

 _Good, still restrictive_. "Works for me."

He pressed his chest against the cold surface of the table and spread his arms out, bending them at the elbow. You shackled his wrists and tightened the chains until he had very little room to move. The only move he would be able to manage with the restriction would be to lift himself up from the table to arch his back. It was imperative to give him that option because you knew he would need it later.

"Ah," Jimin interjected, rattling his cuffs. "I forgot to give you your gift!"

The sight of your client bent over the table, jangling his restraints to get your attention, was truly an enjoyment. "Do you know how happy it makes me, seeing you helpless like that?" you laughed, dragging your fingertips along his spine.

"A predator likes her prey," he jested, smiling as you approached the side of the table to face him.

"You love being my prey," you whispered, leaning down to seize his lips in a passionate kiss. He hummed in agreement as your tongue slipped into his mouth to taste the remnants of your earlier climax. You tugged on his dark locks before you pulled back, restraining yourself. "Is it in this room?"

"In the upper cabinet." He directed with a point of his nose to the wall behind you.

You opened the glass door to find a long, black box. The etching of the company's logo made your stomach tickle with excitement. Turning around to face your client's watchful eye, you opened the gift. Inside was a double-headed toy designed to serve two masters simultaneously: a strapless strap-on, a tool to penetrate you both. The toy was shaped like the letter "L" and was the color of obsidian. It was an elegant choice that would no doubt match most of your wardrobe. The silicone material was firm to the touch and clearly ready for the kind of play it was meant for.

"You know, I don't have one of these. I just have the standard strap-on we've been using," you commented, taking the toy out of its box. Glancing at him, you smirked. "Is my dick not big enough for you?"

He coughed abruptly and shook his head. "I wanted you to have something to enjoy too. Your end and that pointy part in the bend both vibrate. I charged it up already to make sure."

Jimin's expression softened as you approached the table. You felt an inclination something was off with him, for how docile he looked. The choice to buy a gift, the question about the other clients...something wasn't adding up. It was clear he was interested in play, but you were no longer sure whether you should, in good conscience, continue.

"Do you think I don't enjoy myself when I'm with you?"

Your voice was gentle and even, yet Jimin's face appeared wounded. "I want you to. I know I ask for a lot."

_He knows my job doesn't require me to enjoy myself, necessarily. Why does he care so much about this now?_

Placing your palm on his cheek, you deduced he was slightly warm, but not feverish. Stroking his hair, you tried to reassure him. "Yes, but it's your right to ask for what you want. Have I done something you haven't liked?"

"No," he answered, "but I wonder whether you enjoy yourself as much as you should."

 _My god, I came all over you a few minutes ago._ You felt defeated as the issue began to surface: self-esteem, or lack thereof. It wasn't uncommon to encounter a client who felt he was unworthy of affection in some way. After all, many of your clients were loners who were all but living in social isolation. It was natural to have doubts about one's merits if they were single long enough. But that had never been Jimin. In all the years you had known him, he remained one of the most confident, almost to the point of being shameless. Something had definitely changed him since you saw him last.

"My pleasure isn't what you're paying for," you reminded him gently, "but I enjoy what we do together. I've been enjoying myself tonight too. I thought—"

Jimin's eyes grew hollow and you worried you had said the wrong thing. It was honest, at least.

"Hey," you called, pressing your palm to his cheek as he sighed. "You're very special to me. I hope you know that."

He didn't reply, only nodding his head as his lips pressed together. You felt like you were losing him. That much was evident by the way his length had grown flaccid against the table.

"Jimin," you spoke clearly to ensure he heard you. "Are you alright? We can pause or slow down the play if you need to. You're not here with me anymore. It's like I opened the gift and you were sad about it. Are the restraints hurting you?"

"Can you take me out of them?" he requested, hesitant.

"Of course," you responded, moving quickly to release him from the cuffs.

Jimin raised his arms overhead and began to stretch, closing his eyes like he was grappling with something inside of him. "I'm sorry, I just need to get in the right frame of mind."

"There's nothing to apologize for," you eased, rubbing his shoulder. "I would rather you tell me than not. I don't want to hurt you."

He smiled weakly, looking down at the floor. "You always take good care of me."

Lifting his chin, you noted his forlorn expression. "You make it easy by telling me exactly what you want. Now, come here. You need a hug."

His arms instinctively wrapped around your frame and you pulled him close, draping your arms around his neck. He took an unsteady breath and released a sigh into your hair, and the sensation saddened you a bit. It felt like he was saying goodbye, which only confused you further.

"Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?"

"How do you know something's bothering me?" he spoke with a muffled voice, continuing to hold you.

The thought that he could deceive you at this point in your relationship was almost amusing. You caressed his back and responded as gently as you could manage. "Do you really have to ask that? How long have we known each other, Jimin?"

Several moments passed in silence, but you held onto him, hoping to coax him back into the present.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he finally admitted, pulling away from your neck.

"Is this over me, or another person?" The question was a little more direct than you preferred, but you weren't about to continue the session if he was upset with you. It could invite risk and you didn’t want that.

Jimin sighed. "Have you ever met someone you wanted to forget?"

_The pendant. A small, antique silver medallion with a stone as obscure and mysterious as he was. Onyx. How will I ever forget him, after all he has put me through?_

"Yes," you said low, barely above a whisper. "I certainly have."

"I feel like my ears are buzzing when I think about them. I need to forget, you know?"

"I understand," you said, trailing your fingertips down his chest. You knew from that moment on you would have to maintain character until it was all over, for his sake. You would have to take complete control and maintain it in full. "Let me help you forget, then," you suggested, groping his dick with the intent to distract him. Jimin inhaled through his teeth and nodded, his body responding quickly to your touch. His abs contracted as his breathing accelerated.

"From this moment on, you're not going to think about a single thing or person outside of these walls," you instructed, squeezing him, walking him backward until his bare ass brushed the table's edge. "It's going to be you, me, and all the pleasure I'm going to pull from your body, understand?"

"Yes, Mistress." His voice was soothing and pliant as you moved close to kiss him. The pillow-like petals of his lips worked over yours until you were love-drunk on them. He welcomed your tongue with the warmest embrace and as your hunger for each other grew in intensity, you thought your lips would grow numb under his pull. His hands inched across your lower back and pulled you closer to him. You were lightheaded with lustful urges, distracted by an insatiable urge growing between your legs.

"God, I want you so bad," he panted against your lips.

Twisting your hand around the head of his shaft, you felt confident you had him right where you wanted him. "Are you ready to be my bitch?"

His cock jumped in your hand as he whispered in your ear, "Please, Mistress."

"That's what I want to hear."

You pushed him away from you and pointed to the table, giving no verbal command. He rushed to retake his place, bent over its cold, metal surface. As you shackled him, you noted he was still breathing heavily. His legs were unable to stay still.

"You're fidgety, sweetheart," you cooed with a playful tone.

"I'm just really excited."

You looked at how hard he had become, his rigid spear pressed painfully against the edge of the table. "Are you going to be able to control yourself?"

Jimin ground his pelvis against the metal like he had an itch to scratch. "Mhm," he whimpered, rattling the chains as he bent his elbows and moved his arms closer to his body.

"You don't sound very convincing."

"I'm—you know what this does to me, okay."

A chuckle arose in your throat. "How about I go easy on you: you can climax, but you can't come. Your cum belongs to me, after all."

He nodded in acceptance. "I can do that. Thank you, Mistress."

"Thank your pelvic floor," you corrected, taking a final note to check the tightness of his restraints.

Jimin's legs stood shoulder-width apart as he rested his head against the table, his back relaxed in a neutral position. You pressed your warm palms against his shoulders, moving them idly down the length of his body to search for any unnecessary tension. As expected, his form resting on the cold metal was at ease. When you moved to his legs, however, you felt nothing short of the toned bands of muscle keeping him firmly rooted in place. You bent down to run your fingertips up his inner legs, from his ankles to his shapely thighs. As your touch inched higher and higher, he arched his back slightly to present his most vulnerable repository to you.

Pleased with his offering, you took your time kneading the taut flesh of his ass until he willed his limbs to slacken. Then you spread his cheeks with your palms, formed a ball of saliva in your mouth, and launched it with a sharp whistling sound. The moisture hit your client's exposed rim with a splat and he exhaled with a small whine. The sound brought a smile to your face, and you blew a cold gust of wind against the wet spot until his ass became trembling gooseflesh.

He spoke no words as you stood and moved to our bag to retrieve the bottle of lubricant. The pop of the cap made your cheeks warm with excitement, and as you wet your well-trimmed fingers with the substance, you took note to calm your breathing to allow your client to fully hear the actions which were about to be performed.

The moment your slick forefinger made contact with his rim, you heard a sigh indicative of surrender. He needed this release. That much was clear. You applied a small amount of pressure, circling his nerves with tender grazes. It was a tease compared to how he was used to being touched, but you both understood the value of taking your time to warm him up. As you stiffened your finger, he reacted by arching slightly, opening him to further stimulation. You rewarded his willing participation by rubbing his hole up and down like you were making a wish on it, hoping for luck.

Jimin began to whine when you tucked the tip of your finger inside of him, giving it a little wiggle. The sound was pleasing to your ears, and you opened the bottle of lube once more and deposited a narrow stream at his entrance as your finger plunged deeper and deeper. His walls were tight, clinging to your digit as you retracted it from him and slowly slid it back inside.

"How are we doing, sweetheart?" you cooed in a sweet voice, continuing to ease your finger in and out.

He groaned from the back of his throat like a starving man who just smelled a delicious meal in passing. His chains jingled as his arms spread toward the ends of the table.

"Would you like some more?" you prompted, preparing your middle finger for his response.

"Yes, please," he replied with subservient politeness. It was clear he was enjoying himself but was trying to show a bit of restraint. He knew you were only getting started and would never take the most direct path to his pleasure point.

A second finger slipped inside and Jimin exhaled in a deep breath. His walls felt tighter from the intrusion, so you slowed your touch until he fully adjusted. It did not take long for this to occur, and once he relaxed again, you pressed your fingers gently against his rectal wall as you located his prostate. When you found it, your client whimpered, emitting a sweet sound from his lips. You brushed over the spot in an affectionate greeting until his muscles began to contract in small pulses.

"Hngh, yes..." he whispered, turning his head to press the chill of the table against his other cheek.

"You like that?" you asked in a low tone, already aware of his answer.

"Mhm," he replied, his back lifting in steady breaths as his pleasure began to mount.

You continued to penetrate his walls with your fingers, taking turns between greeting his prostate and completely ignoring it. The power of stringing him along ignited your soul. You bit your lip to keep from expressing how exhilarating it felt to see him squirm in the hopes of procuring another desired touch. After several moments of hearing him pant under your care, he began to unravel.

"Can-you-touch-my-dick?" he stammered, sounding a bit distressed.

"No." You withdrew from him and delivered a sharp smack against his ass.

"Ach! Please touch it," he pleaded. " _Pleeaaase!_ "

He pressed his cock hard against the edge of the table. He wanted to climax and was certainly close to it, but the state of being on the edge made him forgetful of your rules.

"You'd better not come on my table, brat." The warning was stern and cold. You delivered another blow to his ass, this time with more force. The sting made him cry out as he pressed his hands beneath his shoulders and started to rut against the table like an animal in heat. He was inviting punishment with his impatient actions, so you grabbed his balls and pulled on them until he yelped.

"You devil woman!"

You tugged harder until he had no choice but to rest flat on the table. As soon as he took a breath, you shoved your fingers back inside of his walls without remorse. His sweaty hands skidded across the metal surface as he moaned wantonly.

A sharp cackle broke from your throat. "Focus," you urged, battering his prostate with firm rubs. "Focus on how much you want to get fucked into this table."

"More," he ordered.

 _The fucking nerve_. You furrowed your brow, landing a swat so hard it strained your wrist.

"Ach! Hey!"

"How about more manners, you ungrateful shit!"

Jimin laughed as you continued to toy with him, then he slurped his lips and you realized. _He's drooling on the table._

"Mm, I love riling you up," he confessed, his tone heady with lust. "May I have another spanking, Mistress?"

 _Better._ You answered with a firm smack.

"H-harder, please."

His ass was red and swelling from your assault, but it didn't stop you from giving the client what he wanted.

"Hngh, make it _hurt_ , Mistress!"

A trickle of moisture tickled between your legs as the sounds of his moans made you ache with need. Offering one last blow to his inflamed flesh, you returned your focus to his prostate. He began to arch and you brushed his lower back with your free hand to assure him that you knew how close he was. Your touch was affectionate and communicated that you would see him through his first peak and not relent. His leg muscles grew stiff when his rim contracted around your fingers. As you moved in and out like a pumping piston, he whined and whimpered softly in time with you until you heard the sharp intake of breath and felt him trembling. _He's right there_ , you confirmed, diligently giving him generous presses of your fingers against his most sensitive spot.

Jimin panted heavily and pushed into his hands as he lifted from the table. The restraints prevented him from having complete control of his movements, but the way his whole body was shaking showed he didn't care about that. A deep groan expelled from his lungs and you knew he had achieved his goal; he found nirvana without emission, sounding with a praise of pleasure so sweet you felt the thrum in your core as well.

As he eased back against the table, you pulled your fingers free from him and walked to his sink to wash your hands. You glanced over your shoulder as you did so, smiling as you witnessed him slowly descend from his pinnacle with an angelic countenance. His eyes were closed, his arms relaxed, but he was chuckling under his breath, as though his orgasm had been stolen without detection.

Approaching him with a tender caress across his forehead, you praised, "Well done, sweetheart."

"I thought I was going to blow my load," he blurted in relief. "I'll be in better control for the next one."

He opened his eyes and pulled you in with his gaze. You kissed his lips, humming against them. His chains rattled as his hand searched for yours. When he found it, he squeezed it before stroking your skin deftly with his thumb.

"Do you want to continue?" you asked, reluctant to leave his lips.

"I'm ready for all of it," he answered with a whisper, capturing your taste once more for support.

"Do you need to stretch first?" you prompted, rubbing his lower back to check for inflammation.

"I'm good. I don't want to lose it," he explained, referring to the high he was tapering off from.

You nodded and moved to take the new double-headed toy in your hands. Its fresh-from-the-box feel excited you, and the fact it could be used without a harness only added to your interest. Pulling the strips of your open panties further apart, you prepared to use the tool for the first time. The tip of your finger slipped into your folds to find yourself wetter than you anticipated, a byproduct of listening to Jimin's cries of pleasure. You pressed the toy's button to commence the lowest vibration setting, then pushed it inside of you with a small hum of satisfaction.

"Oh, no prep needed? I feel so honored," Jimin teased, wiggling his bare ass in your direction.

Chuckling, you countered, "You know how much I love making men whine."

You opened the bottle of lubricant and applied a generous amount in your hand. As you ran your palm up and down your silicone shaft, you felt the surge of predatory longing stir within you. It was a power you only felt with a dick in your hand, and you wondered if men like Jimin experienced that all the time. It was ironic how a man who wielded such power would be so willing to submit to a woman who spent most of her life without it. There was something special about the way the tables could turn with the right consent.

Your reflections were interrupted by the low whines of your needy client.

"Hey, what about me?'

"What about you?" you replied in a sarcastic tone.

Jimin's shackles jingled as he began to protest. "I want—oh!"

You pressed the tip of the silicon head against his anus, prodding his nerve endings with the slightest of movements. "Beg for it," you instructed, your voice calm and assertive because you knew he would. He would beg all night if you required it.

Jimin arched his back slightly and braced his hands against the table, spreading his legs a few more inches. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please fill me up," he corrected with a pout.

Slipping the bulbous tip inside of him, you questioned further. "Can you handle all of me?" You punctuated the query with a small nudge of your waist. The vibrations of the tool filled your walls with soft whirs as your muscles clenched around it, but you were determined to maintain your focus on him.

A few droplets of sweat began to form at the small of his back. His muscles were tensing from the intrusion, but his voice remained gentle and pliant. "I'll work hard to endure you—every inch of you."

"That's right, sweetheart." You eased in further as Jimin rested his body against the steel table, relaxing his form to allow him the means to take all you were sure to deliver.

Withdrawing a few inches, then plunging deeper inside, you set a gradual pace to ensure he was comfortable and responding in a way that made you feel confident in moving forward. With each drag of your silicone dick, Jimin emitted a soft mewl through his nose and lifted his hips to receive more pleasure. It only took a few more pushes before your waist pressed against his bare skin, bottoming out inside of him. He shuddered and began to pant, so you restrained yourself from moving again, instead rubbing your palms affectionately over the taut muscles of his back.

"Do you know how special you are to me?" Your voice was like sweet syrup on your tongue, and you felt his body ease in response to it.

Jimin turned his face to glance in your direction. His hair was matted and indicative of the wreck he had become, but his voice was tender, almost to the point of being unsure. "How special?"

You pulled back your hips slowly, then let the toy crawl back inside, inch by inch, as you raked your nails deftly along the center of his spine. "You're one of a kind."

"Ah, you think so?" He rested his shoulders against the cold steel surface as he permitted you to stretch him further. A small hum squeezed from his lungs at the feeling.

"Such a powerful man...runs his own company, yet you're so docile for your Mistress when I have you bent over like this. You're a real honey boy," you commented in a playful, pleasant tone. You pressed your hips against his until you bottomed out again. "What would your employees think if they knew I was reaching this deep in your honeypot, hm?"

"Jesus Christ," he murmured under his breath, bracing himself as he felt you pull out a few inches. You were being deceptively gentle and he knew it. It was a struggle to focus on your question when he was so distracted by the very near future. He knew what was coming the moment he felt your soft hands grasp both sides of his waist.

The first hard thrust made him wince and press his forehead into the table. He didn't use his safeword, but you wondered if he would. With the lube within arm's reach, it was easy to adjust to ensure he wouldn't have to. Pulling out a few inches, you popped open the bottle cap and released a thin stream of slippery aid along the device as you eased back in.

With a gentle roll of your hips, you resumed a gradual pace. "Better?"

"Yes Mistress," he answered.

"Good," you replied, gripping his waist again. "Now, answer the question."

He began to laugh and you matched that reaction with a hard thrust until his legs knocked against the table. He exhaled sharply as he scrambled to formulate a proper response. "They would probably be horrified I'm this hard."

"Oh?" Another deep shove into his walls made his chains rattle as he skidded his hands toward the table's edges. "Describe it to me."

"Ughhh," he protested, gripping the table to sustain another blow. "It's uh— _fuck_ —it's swollen-and-hard-and-keeps— _ach_ —keeps-rubbing-on-the-table."

He released a large sigh as if he had passed a test, but you didn't let up.

"Are you gonna come?"

"N-not yet." His answer sounded unsure, but perhaps it was the thrill of getting plowed into the table that made his voice stammer.

"Because you like getting fucked?" you pressed through gritted teeth, thrusting at a moderate pace.

"Ungh—yeah."

"Do you love it?"

He pressed his forehead against the table and groaned in pleasure as he sustained another hard push. "God, yes!"

Jimin gripped the edges of the table and his biceps flexed under the strain of receiving repeated impacts. The thin sheen of sweat that had originated at the small of his back had since spread to the rest of his body, and each band of muscles was illuminated under the bright lights of the Sanctuary. Each thrust of your waist summoned a moan from him so pleasing that you worried you would climax again. Each press against his ass offered vibrations to your clit, and the sensory overload of that feeling, paired with beholding a writhing client and savoring the authority over his body, was enough to compel you to hum in pleasure along with him.

After a few more minutes, your client looked increasingly desperate. Your hands kneaded the taut bounty of his ass as you continued to roll your hips, plunging the silicon shaft into his tight, quivering walls. The sounds coming from within him bloomed into high-pitched whines and you felt your nipples harden for all the authority it gave you. Your own core knocked with each drag you took, and you loved it. You were going to ruin him for other partners forever.

"Listen to you, taking my cock like a good bitch."

Jimin moaned as his legs began to tremble again. "Please, Mistress, don't stop—"

"Are you gonna come all over this table?" you barked, interrupting him with a tone to remind him such an action wasn't allowed.

"N-no, but I'm right there—oh god, _oh god_!" Jimin's voice sounded like it was on the verge of panic and you knew it was because he was clenching his PC muscles like a vice grip to prevent ejaculation.

"That's it," you encouraged in a sinful tone, bracing your hands on his hips. "Give me one more."

You continued to batter his prostate with repeated thrusts as he wailed, collapsing on the table and gripping the sides of it like he was surviving a life-altering event. His voice was strained and sounded like he was in pain, as if the second orgasm had been ripped from his body by a demon. You ceased moving against him, taking a breath as you tried to ignore the vibrations humming inside of you.

"Holy shit," he stammered, his voice broken. He twisted his waist and you knew from his writhing against the table that his dick was still hard, and painfully so. He moaned like he finished a good meal and shook his head, clearing his throat.

"Do you need a break?" you asked, wiping your brow. Your walls were starting to clench again and you were growing resentful of the toy still housed within your folds.

"I need to come this time," he answered, his breath sputtering in uneven pants.

You squeeze his waist and prepare your rebuttal. "That doesn't sound like a req—"

"May I come inside you?"

"Excuse me?" You withdrew a couple inches and turned off the vibrations. You were aching so hard for a sensation other than the buzzing, you weren't sure you heard him correctly.

He turned around as far as the shackles would allow him—less than two feet. He remained bent over the table, but you could see him more clearly. His dark hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were welling with tears. The session's repeated assaults on his most sensitive parts were getting to him. He was crumbling. The hard swallow bobbing in his throat only accentuated his desperate plea.

"Please Cat, for old times' sake. I can take care of us both."

Despite your years of experience, you weren't prepared for that request. Not from him, and not when you were several inches deep. Your body screamed for the cock you had locked away and denied all night, and now that he was offering it freely, you weren't sure whether you should say yes. Did he buy a vibrating toy because this was his plan all along, to have you like he used to when he was dominant and you weren't?

No, the brokenness in his eyes was indicative of something else. He was dangling by a thread and you knew one word could shift the current of all your work that evening. He looked like he was missing something—or someone, and you would be lying if you didn't recognize that emotion etched across his features. A haunted shell stared at you every morning in your bathroom mirror.

You took a deep breath and stepped backward slowly, fully withdrawing from him. His body rested limply against the table as he laid his head along the metal surface, dreading the rejection he felt was imminent. You wanted to give an answer to put his mind at ease, but your own was swimming with all the possible consequences, all the risks. The potential emotional damage to you both was at the forefront of your mind. How could you separate yourself when he asked for you by name?

Pulling the toy from your body only agitated you, and the thud it left behind on the counter rang like a bell in your ears. What would be the harm in using him the way he was using you? You missed being pursued by name. You missed the intimacy felt from connecting with someone who really knew you, and there were so few. The mask had become your face for so long that you were angry at yourself for it. Every offer of reciprocation hurt the part of you that missed _him_ , the one you used to have. And now, just like with the generous neurosurgeon, you struggled to let others in to meet your most fundamental needs.

 _No, fuck this_ , you thought, pressing your lips together to regroup. You had crossed so many boundaries with Jimin over the years, a temporary lapse in roles shouldn't be rattling you this way. It had to be done, for both your sakes, to help you both forget those whom you knew you couldn't, if only for a night.

You walked to the side of the table to find him staring at you, quietly searching your eyes for an answer. Unhooking the restraint of his left hand, you gave him your response.

"Come on, then. Like we used to."

He smiled like the sun and bobbed his head in understanding, waiting until his arm was free before he loosened his other wrist from its bonds. The moment he stood up fully, you watched him crane his neck side to side, stretching his muscles. His hands which had been imprisoned were free to give his length a few idle pumps, and your throat went dry at the sight of him reclaiming that which was truly his.

He approached your body with blown out pupils, insatiable with lust. Your chest heaved quickly as you felt the thrill of being backed into the cold wall behind you. Lifting your leg to throw it around his waist, you welcomed him to have his way and put you both out of your misery.

"God, I can't wait to fill your hot cunt," he rasped, possessively kneading his fingertips into your bare thighs.

"Do it," you commanded, feeling the full length of his cock deliver a harsh thrust into your walls. You cursed and contracted around him immediately, panting at the sharp, stinging need for adjustment. It had been so long since you let anyone have you this way, and as you savored the sensation of his throbbing shaft sheathed deep inside your heat, you felt the regret of having made yourself wait so long.

Jimin grunted hungrily, then dropped his head to your shoulder and confessed with a hot breath against your skin, "You still feel so...fuck...I've missed this." He thrusted again, hard enough to compel your back to inch up the wall.

"Then don't disappoint me," you challenged with a sharp tone, determined to retain some semblance of control over him. "My standards for a prime fuck have been raised over the years by these _younger_ men. I hope you can keep up with my appetite."

His next push into your walls made you clench in kind, to the point of aching. A moan escaped from your throat unexpectedly. Laughing, he countered, "You don't have any faith in me?" He rolled his hips, knocking the head of his rigid spear against the neediest patch in your walls as your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

"I know you want to come and you might leave me hanging," you remarked. "You were about to cry out my name like I owned your ass."

He scoffed and shoved your back up the wall with another thrust. "I'm offended." Slipping his fingertips into his mouth, he wet your tormentors, then pressed them against your clit. "You think I wouldn't invest the effort in making you fall to pieces?”

Your core throbbed and you felt the pressure of your impending release begin to mount. His fingers massaged your nerve endings as you preferred. His rhythm was slow, but you knew he was holding back for you.

"You'd better give as good as you got on that table," you directed. "Fuck me, Jimin. Hard."

He groaned into your neck upon hearing your orders. "Do you want to walk out of here?"

"Not well, no."

Those words set him to work as his cock surged with renewed vengeance. His hand clung to your thigh to keep you open to receive his efforts. The harsh smacks of his hips made your flesh burn, but the soreness swelling in your clit was a feeling you savored wholeheartedly. You nodded in affirmation as you wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to brace yourself. The only thoughts drifting in your consciousness were the calls of release and the self-chastisement for ever doubting the choice to be unabashedly fucked against a wall.

Small praises fell from your tongue as he continued to ram inside your aching folds. His eyes bore hungrily into yours, communicating sentiments he wouldn't dare speak aloud, and you understood him. You _really_ understood him: his needs, his habits, his inability to change the type of man he was. And he was honest to a fault. His openness about his personal tastes all those years ago was why you took the chance and agreed to take him on as a client, despite your reservations and years of being betrayed by other men in your life. Your trust for each other, though built on sex and a shared respect for depravity, never wavered. Other clients came and went over the years, yet Jimin felt like the one constant you had, the single thread of fate that would ensure your survival, and your mutual understanding for whatever this relationship was between you was why your back rubbed harshly against the surface of the wall. It was why you let him have anything he wanted, and why you took from him in return, clawing his back as he reminded you that you were more than someone he paid for sex. You were his anchor.

A grunt from his lips informed you he was nearing his end. Every sound echoed in your chest as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, willing yourself the last shred of energy to focus on getting you both off.

As your fingertips trailed between your bodies, you whispered, "Slower, sweetheart, so I can soak your dick."

"Yeah?" His breath came out in shaky spurts as he eased off, changing his cadence to give you the means to graciously tend to your sensitive clit. "You gonna come for me?"

He rolled his waist, sticking the impact with each attempt. The skilled knocking against your walls drove you to the point of delirium. "Yeah," you whined, squeezing your eyes shut. "God, you feel so _good_."

He hummed against your skin, moving to whisper in your ear, "It's 'cause I love your tight pussy."

You felt your walls begin to contract sporadically around him. "Mm, Ji...Jimin!"

"I know, I know," he assured, maintaining his pace as he gripped you tighter. "I'm right behind you."

Nodding frantically, you let your orgasm tear through you. Your throat ached from the moaning you couldn't control, your hands trembling with adrenaline as they found purchase on his slick shoulders. He increased the rapidity of his thrusts as he barreled after you, hissing through clenched teeth as the head of his cock finally erupted, emitting his warm release in sputtering bursts.

He loosened his hold of your thigh as he idly milked his cock inside your erratically pulsing core. Humming with an air of approval, you traced your fingertips up the sides of his neck. His eyes met yours and the corners of his mouth stretched into a knowing smile. You returned the expression, offering him a soft kiss to seal the tender exchange between you.

Setting your leg down, Jimin withdrew with a long, satisfied exhale. "Damn."

"I know," you panted, leaning your head back to quiet the buzzing in your ears.

"We should get cleaned up," he suggested, smiling at his flaccid flesh which was dripping onto the floor.

Nodding in agreement, you added, "I've missed your shower."

"We can shower together if you'd like," he suggested with a grin.

"Sure," you said, "but no sex in there. I don't—"

He touched the side of your waist and shook his head. "I just want to spend time with you."

The warm bloom of affection grew in your chest as you reminded yourself that such feelings were customary during aftercare. "Lead the way, then."

Jimin took your hand in his, interlacing his fingers with a tender squeeze as he pulled you from the Sanctuary and led you upstairs to his master bathroom.

* * *

The large, double-headed shower in his bathroom was no doubt plucked from a high-end interior design magazine, but you wished you had one. You wouldn't have anyone to share it with, but you always found his selections of finishes to be quite beautiful and tastefully made. The aches in your body were setting in, but you felt good—rooted in the pleasant feeling of a job well done.

As the shower started and the bathroom filled with steam, Jimin assisted you with your soiled clothes, helping to remove them. Then he took your hand and ushered you inside, offering a gentle graze of his palm against your lower back. He didn't have to assist you. He didn't even have to offer a shower, but it was his way of coming down while maintaining the closeness he sought by buying your time in the first place. After years of such practice, few words are exchanged because you both knew they were unnecessary. The only communication shared during a shower were soft touches, non-verbal offerings to wash each other's backs, and the like.

You felt particularly attached to him after the session. The way he peered into your eyes periodically throughout the evening would be a red flag from any other client, but with him it was different. There was an unspoken sadness you shared because you were both still role-playing. What was a shower on the surface was a play-pretend that you've repeated year in and year out. Your bodies had aged over time, but your desires had not. Hope remained in both of your eyes that you wouldn't be alone forever. The silent comforts you offered one another were a band-aid, a distraction. You could both pretend, for one night, that you're loved and cared for unconditionally.

Squeezing a dollop of shampoo into your palm, you murmured, "Here," and began to lather the dark strands on his scalp. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the pressure from your fingertips, exhaling in soft breezes. It was nice to do those small gestures for him, and he returned the favor by massaging your shoulders as the hot water relaxed your muscles.

When his hands moved to idly knead at your breasts, you craned your neck to the side and welcomed the soft presses of his lips against your skin. You closed your eyes and took a step backward, letting his arms envelop you in a sweet embrace. His body felt familiar against yours, like a home you hadn't been to in months. The close proximity strengthened the illusion and you turned to face him, draping your arms around his neck as his surrounded your waist, pulling you closer. Offering your lips for a taste, you let yourself believe. Your body made it real and you relished it with him, your tongue slipping past his lips to express your gratitude. He returned the sentiment, brushing his lips against yours until you were both breathless, like teenagers in love.

You took your time with one another—cleaning, reconnecting, cleaning, reconnecting—until the pads of your fingertips became wrinkled. Jimin assisted you out of the shower, offering to towel you off first before considering himself. As you clasped the towel over your damp hair, he walked to his closet for a moment, only to return with two plush, white bathrobes.

"Here you are," he said, holding up a robe to allow you to slip in your arms with ease.

"I feel like I'm staying in a resort," you remarked, watching his expression grow slyer as he smirked. "You're playing me like your other women. You're a complete hound!"

"Hey! I just like making my guests feel special," he argued, trying not to laugh.

You lifted your arm to smell the forearm of the robe's sleeve. "This had better be clean."

"It is!" he whined, throwing his hands up to demonstrate his good intentions.

* * *

Jimin's rear balcony was one of your favorite places in his house, hands down. Several rooms in his mansion felt a bit bloated and stuffy to you, but as you leaned over the railing to admire the moonlight glistening off his infinity pool, you were reminded why it was such a relaxing place to spend your time.

"Do you still smoke?"

You turned to see Jimin waving a pack of cigarettes, his other hand holding an ice pack.

"No, I quit," you answered.

"So did I," he chuckled, slipping one between his lips. "I only smoke on special occasions."

Raising an eyebrow, you asked, "Am I that special occasion?"

He gave you a knowing look that made you laugh and you figured you could allow yourself one transgression. You approached him to take a cigarette, bringing it to your mouth as he flipped open a steel lighter and offered an open flame. As the smoke from the first drag filled your lungs, you returned a concerned look.

"Did I hurt you?"

Jimin looked down at his hand and replied, "Nah, I'm just icing in case I'm sore in the morning." He propped up the ice pack against the back of his lounge chair and slowly took a seat, moving carefully. He reached over and pulled the adjoining chair closer to him and patted the armrest, bidding you to join him. As you took a seat, propping your legs up, the night air blew into your bathrobe and tickled your bare skin.

"So," you began, taking a pull from your cigarette, "how have you been, really?"

He paused, blowing a billowing cloud of smoke. "I'm thinking about throwing another party in a couple months. Care to entertain again?"

The memory of one of his friends grabbing your ass without permission came into view. "I would rather pass this time," you stated in an even tone.

"Oh? Did something happen?"

You hesitated, then said nothing.

"Cat," he pressed, sitting up in his seat.

 _Ugh, dammit_. "One of your drunk guests grabbed me."

"Who?" His tone changed, taking on a defensive strain. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have done something."

Heaving a sigh, you tried to calm him. "I didn't get the guy's name, but I took care of it and Jooheon cut him off."

Jimin sat back in his seat and placed his hand over yours. "I'm really sorry. I wish I had paid more attention."

"You were having fun," you said, hoping to ease his guilt. "It happens sometimes."

You felt Jimin wanted to say something more, but he didn't. After a few moments of enjoying the silence together, you offered a crumb of conversation. "So, if the party is in a couple months, does that mean sales are going well? If you have all this extra money, I should probably consider buying more shares."

He laughed and shook his head. "I don't know how Jungkook does it. He's incredible at closing deals for one so young."

A smirk etched across your face as you blew out more smoke, but the change in your demeanor didn't go unnoticed.

"I know you're not going to tell me, but I seriously think you did something or you're doing something to him," Jimin accused, pointing his finger. "I know you and I know him. You're crafty as hell and he's an impeccable liar."

 _Not to me_ , you thought, amused by the allegation.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Just be good to him, if you are seeing him." Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. "He's not broken like I was when we first met."

A tugging feeling nagged in your chest upon hearing his words. "You were just looking for company in the wrong place."

He laughed, crossing his right leg over his left. "You mean Rocket's? What's wrong with strip clubs?"

"That place was a dump and you know it."

Tilting his head to the side, he conceded, "That may be, but _Sindy_ was there." A sharp whistle blew past his lips. "She was hot as hell!"

Turning your head with a scoff, you scolded, "What do you mean _was_?! I'm still hot!"

Jimin grinned ear to ear, balancing his cigarette between his fingers. "You were such a firecracker back then—and the fucking costumes! God, I remember wanting to be stepped on by those crucifix heels so bad."

"If memory serves, I did step on you," you quipped, adjusting your bathrobe belt.

"Yeah, but I had to beg you to do that! You were a little sub minx before, remember? Not like the all-powerful Mistress."

You shook your head at the embarrassing reminder of your former self. "Now you're teasing me."

"Not at all," he disagreed, releasing a billowing pillar of white smoke. "I was so glad to have a chance with you I would have done whatever you wanted. But—if memory serves—you asked what I wanted that first time."

"I just thought you’d ask for a blow job," you admitted.

"I could get that anywhere," he commented with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I wanted a woman who could make me suffer."

Pressing your lips to ease the fluster of the compliment, you added, "Well, you did see me stab that one guy with my shoe. Did that give you a little tickle in your pants?"

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't," he admitted with a laugh. He cleared his throat before posing the next question. "Are you staying the night?"

Smoke blew past your lips. "You paid for the whole night, so it's up to you."

"I'd like to sleep next to a woman who won't steal from me," he jested.

"Why would I do that when you just hand your money over?" You opened your palm as if money would fall from the sky, but then you saw the forlorn sadness on his face and dropped your hand. "Is that why you were off earlier? That one you wanted to forget," you recalled with a nod. "Did you have a bad breakup? I mean, I figured you hadn't called me because of work. I didn't consider there might have been someone else." _Why does it feel awkward to admit that_ , you wondered.

"I don't know if I'd call it a breakup," he explained, looking down at the feet of your lounge chair. "I'm not sure what we were, but I liked her. And she stole my knife set—my _good_ knife set!"

Your belly tightened as your chest erupted in bellowing laughs. "Oh, what a _bitch!_ "

"Why do I let them in, Cat?" he exclaimed in frustration.

You nodded your head because you knew exactly why. "Because you don't want to be alone. Well, until your next exotic business trip, that is."

Jimin threw his hands up. "See? You get me. You accept that I'm a scoundrel." He chuckled to himself, taking another pull of smoke into his lungs and blowing it into the night sky. "What am I going to do when the right one comes along and takes you out of my life, huh?"

"How are you so sure it won't be _you_ finding the right one?" You pointed. "I'm a whore, remember?"

He shook his head in vehement disagreement, casting a finger back into his house. "I wouldn't dare insult you with that label with what you did to me back there. That was art!"

You laughed in unison as you clutched your belly like it was on the brink of bursting. Jimin shook his head, taking another long inhale from his cigarette.

"I am getting older, though," he admitted with a reflective air. "I can't keep up like I used to. Not like you. You're getting better with age."

The corners of your lips stretched into a smile. "I'm trying."

"You're succeeding."

"Don't sell yourself short, Jimin." You gave him a stern look. "You still fuck with the stamina of a twenty-five-year-old. Be proud."

The review made him blush and he chuckled, unable to look you in the eye. "You flatter me."

"You earned it tonight. I was very impressed." You pulled the stick of nicotine from your lips and pressed the tip into the small ashtray next to your chair.

* * *

It felt strange, pressing your body against Jimin's back as you lie together, nestled under his weighted blanket. Sex was easy, but intimacy set about an unsettling feeling that you didn't want to face. Your arm wrapped over his abdomen and took in the gentle scent of his freshly washed skin. Nakedness didn't threaten you, but when he placed his hand over yours and interlaced your fingers, you were reminded how alone you truly were. Your client rarely requested you to stay the night, so the fact you were there with him meant it was important. You recognized the loneliness as you had earlier in the evening, accepting your role as a surrogate for the woman he probably wished you were.

Admittedly, a part of you hated that someone hurt him deeply enough for him to ask you to stay the night. It wasn't like him to open up, at least not in any way that would lead to commitment. You replayed the events leading up to this moment. His seemingly cheerful request at Jungkook's birthday to get pegged seemed hurtful now. Did he protest being the second pick in your scheduling because he had just been dumped?

And his eyes, the ones which latched on and pulled you in desperately—did he show them because he was worried you would, one day, refuse him? He must have been to ask about your other clients and to comment about the "right one" coming along, as if that person existed in the first place. Only a fool would hope such a person existed in your world. You had been that fool before.

Jimin stirred restlessly and sighed, showing signs of struggling to sleep. How could something so small break your heart? You questioned whether you had worked hard enough tonight to ensure his slumber. Should you have changed something about the session to wear him out further? Was he restless because his thoughts were elsewhere?

"Jimin," you began in a quiet voice, nudging the center of his shoulders with the tip of your nose.

"Hm?" His voice was equally small, lacking the confidence he often displayed.

"I'm really sorry about your knife set."

The words were few, but they communicated what you truly wanted to say: you were sorry he was left behind. Jimin exhaled a long breath and turned his body to face you. You couldn't see his eyes clearly in the dark, but you wondered if they were as wounded as you imagined them to be. Instinctively, you brought your hand to his face and pressed your warm palm against his cheek. His hand joined yours, pushing your hand against him as if it would pull away at any moment.

"I'll get another knife set." His words gave you a little bit of encouragement that he wouldn’t give up on himself.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do for you," you offered. "I know this arrangement we have can't give you everything you need, but—"

"Have you ever been in love?" he interrupted. He took your hand in his and stroked it with his thumb.

The lump in your throat was scratchy, making it hard to swallow. The question shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, yet you were on the verge of tears.

"Yes," you whispered, squeezing his hand.

"Where are they?" He scooted closer to you.

"He's…I don't know where he is." The answer felt unsatisfactory, but it was the truth. "It didn't end on a good note."

Jimin didn't say anything for several seconds, instead brushing his fingertips along your bare waist. The gesture was comforting, a distraction from the aching stabs in your chest.

"I think I loved her."

You inched closer, interlocking your legs with his, and pulled his head into your chest. He wrapped his arm around your waist, hugging tightly.

"Does it ever stop hurting?" he murmured. "I don't know what I did wrong."

It was like having a conversation with yourself. You wanted to say that the hurt is sharp and quick, that it will dissipate in no time, but that hadn't been your experience at all. No, the pain was slow and had dragged for months. The pieces of you that still loved the man who left felt like needle piercings, inflicting wounds that hurt enough to derail your thoughts, but not enough to take you out. It felt like a sickness you couldn't shake.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it used to," you replied.

"I'm glad we still have each other," he admitted. "Our arrangement is probably the most fucked of my relationships," he added, "but I'm still happy you let me take you to breakfast all those years ago."

You smiled in the darkness of his bedroom, rubbing your hand along the center of his chest. He had given you so much over the years that it felt wrong to take his money, yet the money was the only thing reminding you of your role in his life. It was necessary.

"Do you want me to help you sleep?" you inquired in a suggestive tone, trailing your fingers down his abdomen.

His hand stopped yours from pursuing its goal. "I think if I orgasm anymore, I'll get a migraine," he refused playfully, before releasing a small yawn. "Thanks for offering, though. Maybe I'll take you up on it in the morning. I haven't had morning sex in months. I miss it."

"Sure," you agreed, feeling relieved you didn't have to exhaust yourself more than you already were from the earlier session. "Want to go back to spooning, then?"

"Can I hold you this time?" he asked, patting his upper body. "Would that be okay?"

"As long as you don't start confessing your feelings for me," you replied shifting to lie your head on his chest.

"I tried that, remember?"

 _Oh god._ "We're not talking about that trip," you directed, poking his ribs with your fingertip. "Let's try to get some sleep. We've been through a lot today."

"Mhm," Jimin caved with a yawn, pulling you closer to him until his lips pressed a soft kiss on your head. "Sweet dreams, honey."

 _He's never called me that_ , you realized. Your eyes were too heavy to fight the impending slumber waiting in the wings, so you let the name go. He would forget it in the morning.

"Goodnight, Jimin."

* * *

The sun's rays peeked through the windows of Jimin's bedroom and threaded between your heavy eyelids. Your feet stirred, rubbing against each other as your arm reached over to find your client.

But it was cold, unoccupied. You lifted yourself to sit up fully and rubbed your eyes. It was a weekend, so you expected that he would still be in bed next to you, ready to take up that offer you made last night. It wasn't until you saw the note on his pillow that you felt the low pang of disappointment.

> _Cat,_
> 
> _Sorry to run out without a proper goodbye fuck. The office called and our servers are down, so I have to go deal with that so they’ll work by Monday. Hope you'll forgive me. Please help yourself to whatever you'd like in the kitchen. I bought that yogurt you like._

Jimin drew a poor attempt of a winking smiley face next to that last line.

> _I wish I had told you about her sooner. For that, I'm sorry. Business is still good, but I think you know now that it wasn't why I asked for you. Thank you for giving me the escape I needed. You'll always be my special lady._
> 
> _Jimin_

A warm smile greeted your face for the first time that morning and you set the note back down where his head previously rested. Taking your phone from the nightstand, you began a new voice note:

"Pinwheel. Recovering from a ski trip, still required some modifications. Held up well, still very enthusiastic about playtime. Able to maintain orgasms without ejaculation so the methods we previously used are working. They may work on other clients. Pinwheel is currently working through a break-up which impacted play and aftercare. Prioritize his future scheduling until he's recovered and back to his normal self. Should send texts here and there to check on him over the next month. Aftercare may require overnight stays for a while, so don't schedule clients for the following day to allow for recovery time. Re-stock water-based lube."


End file.
